


Bath time/Showtime

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Bath Sex, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Female Character of Color, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Heterosexual Sex, Lesbian Sex, Lingerie, Multi, Other, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-26
Updated: 2014-11-26
Packaged: 2018-02-27 01:17:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2673434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An excursion between for a Dornish Princess and a Wildling Princess goes another direction when a Targaryen prince and a redhead take the next room over.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bath time/Showtime

**Author's Note:**

> Another excerpt of Trials and Tricks, this one from Chapter Thirty-Seven: Wedding Prologue and Part One. This also has references to other stuff in that long-ass WIP. If you're interested, check it out.

Val:

“In the Red Keep, people are so wrapped up in their secrets that they even keep their skin under wraps. Everyone here bathes in a tub, afraid of anyone seeing them nude.”

This was Arianne’s explanation as to how she found a place where the two of them could actually get some damn peace. She found the one place in the Red Keep that didn’t have spoiled lords and ladies crawling everywhere like cockroaches: the lower bath houses.

They were surprisingly well maintained, and when Val remarked upon this, Arianne revealed yet more of her encyclopedic knowledge of the Red Keep.

“That’s because the servants keep them. These were originally made for the lords and royal family. But they stopped using them. So the staff use them instead most nights. They get to enjoy the luxury of the best sort of bath to soak their aching muscles at the end of a long day, and no spoiled aristocrats bother them. 

One of the things Val liked about her new lover: Arianne had friends of every rank. She’d grown up, like many a Dornish noble child, in the Water Gardens, where children of every rank were invited to swim and play together. Engaging all sorts of people in conversation and social interaction was not a habit she’d broken herself of.

So, Arianne had managed to pull some strings and have one of the bath houses reserved in the middle of the night for her and Val. A friend of hers was going to keep the water heated and deliver some food and material delights for the evening. Arianne met Val at the staircase down to the baths, covering her eyes playfully with her hands and leading her to one of the apartments.

When the wildling’s eyes were uncovered, she found several trays of fruit arranged on a table near the pool built into the ground, along with a couple of bottles of wine, whipped cream, and a stack of fluffy towels. There was some cushioned furniture as well that looked suspiciously Dornish, including a divan.

The whipped cream did not end up going anywhere near the actual fruit. There were no complaints. Arianne tastes like a pomegranate anyways, Val reflected as she knelt between her princess’s legs, sucking at her nub. She wondered vaguely if she’d given herself a cream mustache in the process of bringing her lover to orgasm. Val giggled over Arianne’s nub at the thought, and it turned into the best laugh of her life because it made her lover vibrate.

An hour later, they were taking a brief break in the water, washing the stickiness from the cream off themselves. Val sat upon a stone bench, scrubbing herself with a wet cloth and enjoying the view she had of Arianne. The Dornish princess was floating on her back, eyes closed in a dreamy daze, candlelight glistening off her bronze form. She looked like some sort of foreign altar.

 _I wish I could paint,_ Val mused as she watched her lover. Since coming south, Val had seen some breathtaking art. But none of it could compare to what she saw before her.  _Naked Arianne Martell deserves to be immortalized. The world deserves such a thing._

But the image couldn’t last. Arianne opened her big eyes and lifted her head, moving into a more vertical position.

“Another go?” Val asked, surprised. They’d only just finished a few minutes prior. Not that I’m unwilling, but still…

Arianne held up a finger. “Listen.”

Val stayed silent. For a moment, there was nothing. Then she heard it: laughter. From a nearby chamber. Val smiled and looked at Arianne. They exchanged mischievous glances and hurried out of the tub, wrapping drying cloths around themselves and tiptoeing away from the pool

The noise was coming from the next chamber over. Two voices: male and female. Val recognized one of the voices. She’d heard it enough times. Jon. But the female voice…

Her lover found a hole in the wall between the two chambers behind one of the brass candle holders mounted to the wall. Val told herself not to be surprised. Arianne had already revealed a disturbingly extensive knowledge of the Red Keep thus far. And it had been to Val’s benefit. Never had castle alcoves proved so entertaining.

Arianne and Val peered inside through the hole… Sure enough, there was the young man she once knew as Jon Snow, shirtless and standing by the pool, still in excellent shape, though much cleaner than he’d been the last time Val saw him naked. Standing just to the side, with her back to them, was an auburn-haired woman in rather scandalous undergarments of black silk and gold.

Her first thought was that it was Lady Stark. But it couldn’t be. As nice as the girl was, Lady Stark was so prim. Aside from a couple of barbed words here and there, the lady wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything improper. And those undergarments she wore were anything but decent. And they were clearly made to be that way. Val knew that the poor girl had been forced to engage in some very unorthodox practices, but that just made the idea of this woman being the wench shamelessly stroking Jon’s chest and swaying her hips all the more unlikely.

Val appreciated the view, and she felt guilty and angry for that. Given Lady Stark’s history, she wouldn’t at all be surprised if the Lady of Winterfell was frigid. Rumors aside, even if she did willingly share Jon’s bed, that didn’t mean she wouldn’t have some serious issues being receptive to most activities.

Most activities appealed to Val, but having them forced upon you was another matter entirely. She’d come close to being forced a few times, and that had been enough to dampen her own drive and tastes considerably for certain stretches of time. But for it to happen repeatedly, over years had to be mortifying. And women between the Wall and Dorne were more or less trained to be… less than enthusiastic. There seemed to be an unfortunate but common idea between the Dornish Marches and the Wall that a woman could be either a virgin or a whore.

Such a mindset and an extensive history of rape could not make for the most adventurous combination.

Jon loved the woman, but that didn’t mean he was much different than most men. With Val, he’d learned to love a variety of different sexual practices. While Val was sure he’d been faithful to her, no relationship was the same as the other. Even if Lady Stark was the type to parade around in impractical underthings, Val seriously doubted she had a wildling’s mindset. Jon knew, with Val, that if he ever crossed her, he could say good-bye to his cock.

Sansa Stark was not the type to threaten her lovers with a gelding. And southern women in general tended to be more… accepting of infidelity. Especially among the higher classes. It was a curious thing, but Val had spotted more than a few married men stumbling into and out of brothels in the capital, and she’d heard more than a few rumors of wives turning blind eyes or forgiving their husbands infidelities and bastard children.

And even if she wasn’t the forgiving type… Jon was a prince now. Even if she did take offense, what could she do?

Jon did love Sansa, but perhaps that wasn’t enough.  _Could he have sought out a whore who looks like her to satisfy certain needs?_

It infuriated the wildling. Jon, of all people. She wanted him to be better than that.  _You once almost doomed yourself to a life of celibacy, you stupid shit. Now you dishonor your bride-to-be?_

Val looked over at Arianne, expecting to see an expression that matched her anger. But Arianne was grinning in a manner very similar to the way she had when Val had been licking cream from her cunt. Val’s stomach sank.

“How can you smile like that?” The Wildling hissed.

Arianne looked shocked at the question. “Are you kidding? You, of all people… I’ve been waiting to see something like this for moons on end.” Arianne snaked an arm around the wildling’s shoulder’s and pointed to the whore’s under-things. “See those? I gave her those.”

“What?”

“Well, I gave her something like those. She’s changed the fabric. But yes. I gave Lady Stark some counsel and some new garments to wear for her prince.”

“That can’t possibly be…”

“It most certainly---“ But both women had their attention cut off when the woman grabbed Jon by the shoulders and pushed him roughly up against a wall. “---Or maybe not.”

The woman’s voice was a purr as she leaned forward towards the Targaryen prince. Candlelight flickered over her form. Val was sure this woman couldn’t be Lady Stark. It wasn’t just the voice. It was what the voice was saying.

“Listen to me, Bastard Boy. You’ve got one more night of sin before you become a respectable married man. I intend for it to count. We’ve got to make sure that pretty cock of yours gets plenty of practice don’t we? Do you want to disappoint your Lady Wife?”

“My Lady Wife will not be disappointed, I assure you,” Jon replied, “I make a point of surpassing her expectations. And even wed, I doubt anything we do will ever be considered ‘respectable.’”

“I hear she’s a respectable lady.”

“She is. It makes me wonder what she could possibly see in a bastard like me.”

The wench’s hands snaked down his belly. She began unraveling his laces and yanked them open. Jon’s cock came out, hard and proud. Jon gasped, his eyes rolling back.

“Maybe it has something to do with Balerion here. Has she seen him?” The whore asked, prodding the tip with her fingertip and conjuring a shudder from the prince.

“Aye, she has.”

“There’s your answer then.”

“You’re right, it can’t be her,” Arianne said in shock.

“Why?” Val asked.

“Balerion was the name of Aegon the Conqueror’s dragon,” Arianne said, “The biggest, most fearsome creature to ever visit the Seven Realms. Balerion the Dread. There is no way in any of the Seven Hells that Sansa bloody Stark would ever deign to refer to her prince’s cock by a pet name, let alone one that… Seriously, any man on the planet would be delighted to refer to his cock by such a prestigious moniker. But a snowflake like Sansa would find it horrifying.”

The redhead slipped to her knees then, kissing Jon’s torso as she went, then took ‘Balerion’ into her mouth. Quite enthusiastically as well. And, judging by how Jon threw his head back, cried out, and squirmed, also very proficiently.

No way. Val knew from what Arianne had told her of the trials that Sansa Stark had, in fact, had a cock in her mouth before. But it wasn’t by choice. There was no way she’d suck like this, especially not at this point in her life. And while Jon might not be faithful to her, Val couldn’t find it in her heart to believe he’d ever pressure her into such a thing.

And, judging by the way this woman bobbed her head so rapidly and happily, this wasn’t an action she shied away from. At first Jon’s fists were clenched, much like his eyes. Eventually, though, they found her hair, stroking it and mussing it passionately.

“Oh, my sweet, sweet girl.” He cried out. “My lovely, lovely… perfect… I can’t… Gods above…”

Val wanted to enjoy the show. Whoever the girl was, she was quite attractive from behind. Long slim legs, round arse, a somewhat wide but slightly tapered waist and sculpted arms. The hair was a bit uneven in terms of thickness, but it was a beautiful color, and her skin was like cream.

Jon was as ridiculously pretty as ever. And Val always liked watching him squirm best of all. He was still extremely sculpted and strong, and though his skin was a bit less pale than it once was, it was still glistening and clear. His hair was still thick, but cleaner and nicely cut. His beard was more closely trimmed than it had been at the Wall, but that wasn’t surprise. They’d had little time for grooming during the wars. He still had all his teeth, and they were whiter than she remembered. The new scar on his cheek was impressive. Though he was a bit more polished, he seemed as masculine as ever. The scars that cascaded over his torso, arms, and face were enough of a reminder of his past even if his muscles weren’t. The way he bit his lower lip, too… _Gods, I miss those lips._

She felt a twitching in her cunny, but it was a guilty twitch. He’s dishonoring your liege lady. While Val wasn’t entirely sold on these kneeler practices, she knew there was something important about that. While it might not matter to some women that their men had girls on the side, Val believed it might matter to Sansa. The Wildling wasn’t the Lady of Winterfell’s disciple, but she liked the woman well enough. And it was clear that the girl had suffered enough and that she worshipped Jon. That Jon would do something that could hurt his bride-to-be did bother Val on a certain level.

The wench then reached between Jon’s legs. Val noted the motion of her elbow and the way the prince yelped and almost jumped.

“GODS! FUCK!”

There were few things one could do to get Jon-the-honorable-Lord-Crow to curse. One of them was playing with his stones. She did. Sansa Stark would never, ever do such a thing. _But perhaps that’s why this whore is here._

“Please… Mercy…” Jon yelped. “I can’t…”

The whore pulled her head back. “I don’t feel merciful.”

“Fine then, don’t be.” He grunted. “But be prepared.”

The wench put him back in her mouth. After several seconds, Jon was jerking his hips in a way that made it all too clear what was happening. And the whore swallowed it all up.

Val felt a flash of anger towards both of them.  _The wedding is two bloody days away_. Weddings to the Wildlings did in fact mean loyalty. And Jon and Lady Stark were practically wed already.  _Why marry her if he’d do this?_

_I’ll never be able to enjoy thinking about Jon naked again. Not without guilt. Every time the image comes to mind, I’ll be seeing him with this harlot._

Val wanted to tear the woman’s pretty red hair out.  _That’s probably why he picked her._ _So he can have a prostitute Sansa to suck his cock and play with his stones since his Lady Sansa can’t and won’t do it._

The harlot pulled away and laughed. “Has the great Prince of the Targaryens been conquered? Oh dear, what shall the empire come to?”

Jon growled, slipped his hands underneath her arms and pulled her up. “I’m not conquered yet, Stark.”

 _Gods, he even calls her by name?_  Any arousal Val felt disappeared. Now she was disgusted.

Jon made it worse by suddenly growing rather tender, reaching up and stroking the woman’s cheek. “And besides,” he said softly, “I don’t like seeing you on your knees, doing all the work. You’ve been working hard enough as it is.”

_Ugh. I knew you didn’t have a preference for maids, Jon, but now you like them ‘worked hard’, too?_

“I like working hard,” the whore replied. “Especially when you’re so very hard.“

He put a finger to her lips. “Where did that naughty mouth come from?”

“A lady must have her secrets.”

 _Wait…_  The inflections surrounding that seemed too familiar.

Jon lifted the woman up and she giddily wrapped her legs around his waist, wiggling her arse and pulling another cry from his lips.

As it turned out, Arianne may have not have arranged for the furniture she and Val occupied, as luxury seats and tables were arranged in the adjoining chambers as well. Though the velvet in this room was blue instead of green. But Val hadn’t even noticed the furnishings until a moaning Jon chose to place his lover atop one of the long tables. Both of them turned so their sides were facing Val and Arianne and the woman turned her head. Blue eyes. Pink full lips. High cheekbones.  _No…_

The woman in Jon’s arms was no whore. It was indeed Sansa Stark.There could be no mistake. The golden light of the candles caught the underside of her chin as she threw her head back and there was a flash of skin a bit more silvery than the rest. A burn.

And just like that, Val was turned on once more. She gasped in shock. She heard Arianne do the same.

Short but nimble fingers danced around the wildling’s naked waist. They danced up her ribcage and groped her breasts.

“Who’d have thought little Lady Stark had it in her after all?” Arianne whispered in her ear. “Gods, but she’s good at hiding it. I’d have never guessed. Of course, that does call a couple of our prior conversations into question… but still. Gods… Look at them. Beauties, aren’t they?" 

They were. Val actually preferred Jon to his partner, but Lady Stark was nothing to scoff at either. She looked lovely perched on the table, pressed up against Jon as he kissed her. Jon looked absolutely worshipful. Val had seen him like this before, but perhaps not to this degree. He handled Sansa like she was made of stardust and sunlight.

“Should I be jealous?” Arianne asked.

“What? No.” Val replied. She wasn’t interested in comparing lovers. Jon was not Arianne and Arianne was not Jon. Each were wonderful in their own ways and completely different. She’d enjoyed her time practically debauching her nervous, sweet, virtuous Jon Snow. And now she enjoyed her trysts with her knowledgeable, sultry, vivacious Arianne. “Should _I_ be?”

“No. That said… I want us to play with each others’ cunts while we watch them fuck.”

“Talk like that is why you’ll never have to be jealous of anyone, ever,” Val said tartly, pushing her arse out, leaning forward, and planting her front against the wall. Arianne giggled and knelt behind her. She began stroking Val’s folds.

“Narrate for me,” the Dornish princess said huskily.

Val tried to keep her voice and legs steady as her lover peeled her folds back.

To her disappointment, though, when she put her eye back to the hole, she saw Jon pulling away from Sansa. When he began to walk in Val’s direction, the wildling’s breath caught in a way that actually had nothing to do with her princess’s fingers. But to her relief, the Targaryen prince was just rifling through some of his dropped clothing.

“I have something for you,” he said. Sansa sat back on the table. It was then Val noticed how her belly curved. She gasped.

“What?” Arianne asked.

“Just the way you’re stroking my taint,” Val lied. She adored her lover, but she knew that what she saw was best kept to herself. She found herself hoping Arianne wouldn’t notice, but she wasn’t sure how many expectant women the princess had been around. Sansa’s belly wasn’t prominent, but Val had been around enough women who were expecting to recognize what was before her.

Jon retrieved a box from the folds of his discarded doublet. “Close your eyes.”

Sansa did as asked. She licked her lips and opened her legs further. Jon chuckled, walked up to her, and opened the box. “Open them.”

It was the necklace he’d bought weeks ago in the goldsmith’s chambers when Val had been purchasing the bracelet for Arianne. It was now altered: the once pink roses were now blue, the green leaves now red like a weirwood tree. Sansa Stark’s blue eyes grew huge and sparkled as much as the sapphires glinting against the velvet in the box.

“Jon…” She began to quiver. “Oh my Gods… Jon… You shouldn’t have…”

 “I’m your husband to be,” Jon replied, “Of course I should.”

“Jon, you really don’t have to give me pretty things…”

Jon pouted. “You’ve made me plenty of pieces of fancy clothing. And you’ve gifted me that silver chain, dozens of handkerchiefs, and that fine favor of yours. And in a couple of days, strangers and sycophants with too much money will be falling on their knees to gift you with pretty things to gain your favor. If you get to give me pretty things, and everyone in the kingdoms gets to give you pretty things, why shouldn’t I get to give you pretty things as well? Or maybe you don’t think this is that pretty.” He pulled the box away and snapped it shut. “Maybe you don’t like it or want it.”

“No!” Sansa yelped, reaching out. Jon laughed.

“What’s happening?” Arianne hissed, pinching Val’s folds. Val hissed.

“He’s giving her a necklace.”

Arianne snorted. “You Northerners. Tell me when it gets hot.”

And she shoved a finger into Val’s cunny. The Wildling bit her lip to stop from yelping.

Another finger joined the first, and Arianne began fucking Val with her hand while circling the wildling’s nub with her thumb. Val tried to retain control of herself as she watched Jon and Sansa. The Lady of Winterfell was crying now and blubbering about how much she loved Jon and how he didn’t need to give her expensive things as Jon clasped the bauble about her long neck.

“I did this because I wanted to. I know I don’t need to give you things.” He replied sweetly to his betrothed.

 _Obviously,_  Val thought, _You sucked his cock before he gave it to you. You’ve already made it pretty clear that your love doesn’t need to be bought. So enjoy your damn jewels._  Val was happy she didn’t have to deal with this shit. When she’d given Arianne her bracelet, the Princess just accepted and enjoyed it as intended.

The necklace sparkled prettily on the Lady of Winterfell’s neck. The redhead slipped off the table and went to the edge of the pool to look at her reflection, bending over becomingly. 

“She’s bending over the pool,” Val whispered, “And not just to look at herself.”

It was hard to give a proper commentary and keep her voice low, because Arianne was practically sending her into spasms. Val struggled to maintain a grip on the wall. Her nerves were exploding as Arianne pushed her digits in and out more and more frantically. Val’s legs were beginning to feel like jelly. _Seven Hells, I am a woman of the Free Folk._   _And yet I'm letting a Southerners turn me to jelly. I've become my sister._

She gasped as her peak took her and stumbled back. Arianne caught her, wrapping her limbs around Val’s form as the wildling fell back. The Dornish princess giggled and kissed Val’s hair. “You’re like a geyser, I swear.”

They gasped and held each other for a second, enjoying the sound of the moans coming from the other side of the wall before Arianne giggled. “My turn. I want to see if Lady Stark’s cunt is kissed by fire as well.”

She planted a sweet kiss upon Val’s forehead, then scampered over to the peephole. She took a quick look, then glanced back at Val, delighted.

“It is!” She whispered excitedly before looking back.

Val was less interested in Sansa Stark’s red cunt than the pink and brown one inches from her face. She closed that distance enthusiastically after parting Arianne’s legs a bit more.  _My Dornish Pomegranate Princess._

Val had never worked her tongue so hard, attacking at the princess’s clit like a crow that had tried to steal her best fur. Before long, the Dornish princess had forgotten all about the two on the other side and fell to her knees in an orgasmic mess. Val didn’t let up. She kept going, making the woman moan and gush. When her lover peaked a second time, the wildling flipped her over and climbed atop her, tangling their legs and grinding their mounds together roughly.

By the time they were done, they both needed to bathe again about a half dozen times. And then they fucked in the water. Then the sun was up and Val was certain she wouldn’t be able to walk right for a week.

They managed to get their clothes back on and help each other back to their chambers. Val kissed Arianne deeply behind her door before the princess departed reluctantly. 

After an hour long nap, Val forced herself to scrub Dorne off of herself and put on some respectable clothing before hurrying off to the practice yards. Arya Stark, Lady Stark’s dark-haired little  sister, briefly passed by with Lyra Mormont, running through the yards.

Val watched the two women hurry past in surprise.  _Honestly, if I were to guess which of the Stark sisters were the enthusiastic bed partner, I’d have said her._ Both Stark girls were beautiful, tall, and strong, and the similarities ended there. Arya was the polar opposite of her sister Sansa. She was active, aggressive, unpolished, and shockingly open about her emotions. She didn’t hide her pain or anger, and she certainly didn’t hide her opinions. If Val hadn’t known any better, she’d have taken Arya Stark for a spearwife.

Or Jon’s blood sister. They certainly looked alike.

She found Jon in one of the swordyards, hacking at a practice dummy. Ghost trotted up to greet her, and she stroked the animal’s ears. When Jon turned, however, he didn’t look quite so eager. Val stepped back as he came towards her. His solemn face betrayed nothing.

His words were more revealing. “Did you… Have an interesting evening?”

Val tried not to cringe.  _Of course they fucking heard._


End file.
